Vol 6: Lift Whitish Mists Into the Night
by the-casket-girls
Summary: Eight years ago, Aeron returns to the Armory to find things not quite as he left them. Now, Hope and Lyn find some reprieve in the safehouse and start talking about what their future will look like. Vol. 6 of "Oblivion Hymns"
1. Prologue

**Volume 6! I have lots of plans for this one, so let's get into it.**

* * *

PROLOGUE

 _Winter Light_

 _Eight years ago …_

The car pulled into the driveway, gravel cracking under the wheels like candy popping between teeth. Aeron clenched his fists over his thighs, trying his best to breathe deeply.

"Aer," said Caroline, looking over at him from the front seat. "You okay?"

Aeron nodded curtly. "Just nervous."

She reached over to cover one of his hands with her own. "If it becomes more than nerves, let me know."

"I will."

Klaus pulled the car to a halt out the front of the Armory. Aeron could see Josie and the boys bouncing with excitement, Keelin eyeing the boys to make sure they stayed clear of the car, and Lizzie, stoic and untouchable, standing separate from them all. Klaus beat him to opening the door, giving him space to hop out. He did, heart pounding against his rib cage.

Josie was unable to contain herself, pitching forward and throwing her arms around his shoulders. Aeron saw Caroline frown, ready to intervene, but he hugged Josie back, choking back tears all the while.

Josie laughed in his ear. "I missed you, you dick."

" _Josette Louise."_

" _Mom,"_ Josie shot back, pulling away from Aeron.

"I missed you too." Aeron meant it, though he hadn't realised quite how much until then.

Josie beamed. "Welcome home."

* * *

 _Now …_

Frigid air whipped at Hope's face, dragging the ends of her hair over her skin like tiny knives. She burrowed deeper into her scarf, letting her breath warm her neck as she closed her eyes against the cold.

"Ready to head down?" Lyn yelled into her ear, beginning to duck down lower in the sky.

Hope nodded, reluctant to pull down her scarf and answer. Lyn carried them down further, her grip on Hope shifting a little to allow Hope the space to unhook their packs from atop her belly.

The rest of their landing went as they'd practiced: Hope dropped the packs onto the snow-laden ground, Lyn dropped Hope, and Hope caught Lyn. Simple.

"Stop grabbing my ribs like that," Lyn grumbled as Hope set her on her feet.

"Then aim for my arms better."

Lyn glared at her without malice, her lips almost twisting into a smirk. "We'll camp here for the night." She shook out her wings. "I don't think I can fly any further, anyway."

"Sounds good to me." Hope surveyed the area, the naked trees and thick blanket of snow. There weren't any of the icicles from hell here, which had to be a good thing.

And then in the distance, though some of the thickest fog she'd ever seen, Hope saw green.

"The Middle?" she asked Lyn, who nodded. "I don't remember it being that foggy."

"The air turns to steam where it hits the heated pocket past the border. Makes for some heavy mist."

Hope watched the steam curl into the evening sky in wisps, entranced. "It's beautiful."

"It would be more beautiful if we had a fire to warm us. Come on and help me."

Hope rolled her eyes, tearing them away from the sight. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

 **Act I should be around sometime next week!**


	2. Act I

ACT ONE

 _Becoming_

 _Eight years ago …_

Aeron stood by the window, wings stretched and sunning in the late afternoon light. His room was unchanged, touched only to keep it clean in his absence. Like it had been waiting for him all along.

He knew Lizzie was coming before she knocked. She probably knew that he knew, making the knock more of a courtesy than anything else.

"Come in."

Lizzie opened the door slowly, peeking in with her head before her body followed. She shut the door behind her, tucking her hands into her back pockets. "Hey," she said. "How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Fine. I'm—I guess I was kind of beat up the last time you saw me."

Aeron nodded shortly. "Yeah, you were. I'm really sorry—"

"No, don't. It wasn't your fault."

"I know it wasn't. At least, I know now."

"Good. I'm glad. Is there … anything I can do to help you? You've been gone a while. I can help you catch up." Something like anxiety flashed behind her eyes.

"If I think of anything, I'll let you know."

"Do you … mind if I stay? I can grab a book or something—"

"I'd prefer it. There's a book on the nightstand. Something Marcel lent me."

Lizzie wandered over to the nightstand to fetch the book, barely glancing at the title before settling herself on the bed to read.

* * *

 _Now …_

Landing was getting smoother by the day. Hope was also growing by the day, stomach pressing outwards until even her loosest shirts were uncomfortably tight, but that was by the by. She could still catch Lyn, and that was all that mattered.

"Are we camping here for the night?" Hope asked. Lyn looked exhausted, and it was early evening. A storm brewed ahead, and Hope definitely didn't like the look of it.

"Probably," said Lyn. "I don't like the look of that storm."

"We'll get higher ground if we head for the mountain. I'd rather not wake up in a lake tomorrow morning."

Lyn shook her head. "Not that mountain."

"Why?"

"You mean you don't know?" Lyn's eyes boggled a little. "That's Amarantha's mountain."

Hope heart plummeted a little. She should've known—she's passed it with Jora once before. "Then I guess we're sleeping here."

"You guess correctly."

* * *

They had a fire crackling in no time. Hope caught a few fowl with magic and Lyn seasoned them with something their hosts had given them back in Winter. It was a decent meal, if a little on the small side.

"So," Hope began, wiping her chin with her sleeve, "Amarantha and Hybern. I don't know much about how that went down."

"Unsurprising, see as how you don't come from these lands at all."

Hope winced. She'd avoided that conversation, but revealing herself as a witch had marked her out as someone categorically not from this continent. "But you know the full story, right?"

Lyn paused to pick some meat from her teeth with her fingernail. "What do you want to know?"

"I know that Feyre Cursebreaker was Under the Mountain, fighting for her lover when Amarantha killed her. I know that Tamlin killed Amarantha, and Feyre was brought back to life as a fae. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, though. How did she go from the High Lord of Spring to Night? Because they're mates?"

"That, and Tamlin tried to trap her there."

"After she was Made? Wasn't she too powerful?"

"Stories say she didn't learn to master her powers until after she moved to Night."

"Have you ever met them? Feyre and Rhysand, I mean." As a spy, she must've met someone important. That Illyrian warrior that had escorted her, Azriel, he was the Spymaster. Perhaps she'd met him.

"No, and I'm not inclined to. I'm perfectly happy for our heroes to stay up on their pedestals." There was something bitter in her tone, though Hope couldn't fathom why. People loved Feyre and Rhysand. She'd never met anyone that knew Rhysand as she and Aeron did—as a coward, through and through.

"And Hybern. What happened there?"

"Feyre's sister killed him after he stole her and their other sister and Made them with the Cauldron. There was a big battle, many lives lost. He attacked Adriata first, but High Lord Tarquin and his allies fended them off. Feyre was there, too, fighting for us all."

"So it was the Night Court that defended Adriata, and the Night Court that ended the war against Hybern."

"They're the most powerful court of all. More land, more power. Rhysand is a formidable foe."

 _Just how formidable?_ Hope wondered. It wasn't that she intended to make a foe of him, but if she had to …

"And they have Illyrian warriors," Hope added.

Lyn's smile was tight. "Of course." She feigned a yawn, seemingly unaware that she was a dreadful actress. "I'm going to get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow if we want to reach the safehouse by sunset."

"Good night."

Lyn's only reply was a nod as she set herself up, curling her wings around her and leaving Hope alone with her thoughts.

* * *

 _Then …_

Josie practically banged Aeron's door down the next morning in her excitement. She opened it without hesitation, appearing in her jogging gear and with a wide grin spitting her face.

"Ready to go?"

Aeron groaned, shoving a pillow over his head. "Do we have to?"

"No, but I'll guilt trip you for _ages_ if you don't."

Forcing himself to sit up, Aeron said, "Fine, just give me a minute."

"I'll give you two before I come back up here. Hop to it!"

* * *

Aeron met her down there just in time, his feet shoved into running shoes he hadn't worn in months. He hadn't jogged in New Orleans, preferring to spend his mornings huddled in bed and recovering from nightmares. He still had nightmares, but that didn't mean he had to persist with the huddling.

"Wow, you're out of shape, huh?" Josie prodded as he began panting.

"Just a little."

"C'mon," she said, ponytail bouncing as she jogged ahead of him. "If you catch me I'll steal some Dr. Pepper for you."

And she took off.

* * *

It was almost noon when Aeron felt it.

A jolt of anger shot through him without provocation, a bitterness that boiled his blood. It wasn't his own—he was reading in the sunshine—so he knew exactly who it had come from.

Hope.

Shutting his book and picking up the empty can of soda, Aeron winnowed back to the reception area of the Armory. No one was around; it was class time, and everyone was busy. He stalked the halls, headed for Hope, trying to keep her emotions out of his head. He could feel the bond taut between them, a bridge he could follow into her thoughts. He had no intention of setting foot down that path.

Hope was in Magical History with the other witches her age. Aeron didn't enter the classroom, just lingered outside and listened intently.

"—the wolf in you," someone was saying. A boy, and a smug one at that. "A bit too wild for controlled magic."

"I can have control when I wish," replied Hope, tone restrained compared to the emotions Aeron could feel washing over him from the bond. "But sometimes you don't need control. You just need instinct."

The boy snorted. "Instincts? Like pissing on letterboxes and sniffing asses?"

"Or going for the throat."

"Hope and Louis, that's enough!" said the teacher, someone whose voice Aeron hadn't heard yet.

"But Dorian—"

"That's Mr. Williams to you, Hope. We're in class. Please behave like it."

Louis snickered lowly, low enough that their teacher wouldn't hear unless he had advanced hearing.

Satisfied that the situation wasn't escalating, Aeron tore himself away.

So that was Louis Leroux. Aeron didn't have to see him to know that he really, truly hated him.

* * *

 _Now …_

Hope didn't know what she'd expected when Lyn said "safe house". All she knew was that it hadn't involved quite so many weeds.

"It's been a while since someone's stayed here," Lyn explained. It was right on dusk after a full day's travel and they were hacking weeds and ivy from the path to the house.

"I can see that." Hope finally touched the door with her hands, the wood brittle and rough under her fingers. She tore the ivy away, tossing the chunks of it at Lyn before muttering a quick unlocking spell to open the door.

Inside wasn't much better. It was blanketed with dust, the windows almost impossible to see out of thanks to the dirt caked on them.

Lyn stepped in behind Hope, appraising the place quickly. "We can clean up more tomorrow. For now, let's just get the fire started and see what we can rustle up for dinner."

"Sounds promising."

"Don't be so negative. We can make it work!"

Hope bit back the skeptical retort and gave a smile instead. "Of course. I'll just go hunting, shall I?"

She was relieved to get out into the night air again, feeling how clean it was as it speared down her throat like ice water.

* * *

 _Then …_

Aeron followed the scent of paint, finding himself at a door he'd never seen before. He knocked before he could talk himself out of it.

"Come in, lad."

Opening the door, Aeron walked in slowly, looking around him carefully. The smell of the paint was most intense here, despite the fans running to push it out the open windows. Paintings decorated the walls, stacked against them, up on easels and resting on desks to dry. Klaus was occupied at an easel by the window, painting something that looked like a woman made of flowers.

Wiping his brush on his apron, Klaus nodded towards a stool that rested off to one side. "Take a seat."

Aeron did as requested, hoisting himself up on the stool and resting his feet on the bar. Patting his hands with his thighs, he eyed the painting beside him. A red-haired little girl reaching out to a blue butterfly.

Hope.

"How can I help you today?"

"I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about a few things."

Klaus sourced another stool from the side of the room and dragged it in front of Aeron to sit on himself. Once they were at the same level, he nodded, saying, "Continue."

"I heard … while I was staying with Marcel and Rebekah, I heard them talking about Hope. They said she was having a hard time or something?"

Klaus' face remained carefully neutral. "And?"

"And I know it has something to do with Louis Leroux."

"If you're looking for gossip, Aeron, you won't find it here."

"No, I wasn't—I just heard him talking to her. He was talking about how her werewolf side influences her magic."

"If you're worried about her, don't be. I can assure you, Aeron, my daughter gives as good as she gets."

"I get that, but I—"

Klaus stood and rested a hand on Aeron's shoulder. "I appreciate that you're concerned for her. You're a good lad, and I'm glad she has you looking out for her. But she also has the rest of us, Aeron. We've got this. You don't have to protect anyone here."

 _But this is more than that. I can feel it._ But was it? It had just been an argument, not unlike the ones he'd heard about before. But Hope wasn't dealing with it as well, and that anger had been unlike anything he'd felt from her in ages …

"Now," Klaus continued, "I want you to relax, and have some fun. You've been through enough to start inventing more problems for yourself, all right?"

Aeron forced himself to nod. "Right."

* * *

 _Now …_

Hope returned to the house an hour later, two rabbits hanging from either hand. Smoke rose from the chimney in a wisp that made her cringe and mutter a quick concealing spell to hide their presence. She'd have to do a stronger one to keep them safe, long-term, but for now it would do.

"I brought dinner," she announced, kicking the front door open.

"Took you long enough." Lyn turned to her with a grin, sweeping a hand around the house—cleared of dirt, dust, cobwebs, and most else that had made it so unappealing. It was sparse, empty, but serviceable. "Welcome home."

* * *

 **Reviews make the writing go faster!**


	3. Act II

**Another!**

* * *

ACT TWO

 _Belonging_

 _Eight years ago …_

Aeron strummed one last time, holding position as the strings stopped vibrating and the music faded out. Adam's voice echoed down the line, warped by the poor connection.

" _That was great!"_ he praised. His wide grin froze for a moment as Skype glitched. He started moving again, still smiling. " _Have you been practicing?"_

"Every day."

" _It shows. Look, I gotta go soon, but I think Dad's ready for your session if you are?"_

"Uh, yeah." Aeron set his guitar down and rubbed his palms together.

" _Okay, great. I'll talk to you soon, okay? And let me know if you need any more help with, you know."_

"I definitely will." Adam had been the most helpful when it came to Louis Leroux, listening to Aeron's concerns and providing whatever information he could. Aeron had yet to bring it up with anyone other than Klaus, who had been full of assurances and dismissals alike.

Adam disappeared from the screen, and there was the sound of distant voices before Vincent arrived. Their laptop was set up in the living area, and Aeron could see the artwork behind Vincent's head and the back of their suede sofa.

" _Hey, Aeron,"_ said Vincent. " _How are you?"_

"I'm good. You?"

Vincent smiled. " _I'm fine. Getting ready for the next festival, but that's almost always the case here. What's been going on with you?"_

"The usual. I, uh, was thinking about maybe starting classes."

" _Oh? What prompted that?"_

"It's just time, you know. I've been here for a while, and I know I'm not stupid. I think I should get more involved."

" _Any reason to seek education is a good reason,"_ Vincent assured him. " _Are there any particular concerns you have?"_

"Just the people, obviously. I still have a hard time with crowds."

" _That's understandable. Is there anything you can think of that could help you manage that anxiety?"_

"Getting classes that one of the twins are in, maybe, so they can help if I'm lost."

" _Just the twins? Not Hope?"_

"Yeah, Hope too. Of course." That wasn't strictly true, as Aeron didn't think he'd find sharing a class with Hope comforting. More likely distracting, and a little unnerving given her recent behaviour. But there was a reason he was doing this, and what he felt couldn't interfere with that.

If Vincent picked up on Aeron's hesitance, he didn't mention it. " _Have you spoken to Caroline about it yet?"_

"A little, but not since I got back."

" _When do you think you'll bring it up with her again?"_

"Whenever I see her, I guess? I don't feel like we have to be alone for the conversation, and it might be good if Ric's there too since he'd be the one figuring most of it out. Caroline isn't a teacher."

" _That's true. It sounds like you've really thought things through. Do you think you have?"_

"I think so." _And I also don't have another choice. I have to know more about what's going on._

" _Well, it sounds good to me. If you need to make our sessions more or less often once you start classes, just let me know. Studying takes up a lot of time, but being stressed means you need more support. Do you think you'll be able to notice if things are getting hard?"_

"Probably, yeah." Not to mention that Vincent would be asking him at every session. Even if Aeron didn't notice straight away, Vincent had a way of pointing it out to him. "I feel good about it."

" _That's a really great thing to hear, Aeron. And if it changes, I hope you know there are ways to deal with that."_

"I know."

" _Okay, then."_ Vincent leaned back, grabbing what looked like a thermos and taking a sip. Once done, he said, " _How about you tell me how things are going with Lizzie?"_

* * *

 _Now …_

Hope groaned as she lowered herself into the chair by the fire, a hand on her belly and the other at her back. "You didn't tell me that the Night Court doesn't believe in comfortable mattresses."

Lyn smirked from where she was leaning over the fire, stirring the stew she'd cooked up for breakfast. "This safehouse is hundreds of years old, and it's not exactly easy to cart a whole lot of furniture through the Middle discreetly."

"I'd have thought Rhysand would wants his spies more comfortable."

"A good thing, then, that you're not one of his spies."

Hope poked her tongue out. "When is the stew going to be ready? I'm wasting away here."

"Patience is a virtue you could do with working on. It'll be another few minutes before the meat is cooked through." Lyn set the bone ladle aside and joined Hope in front of the fire. "So, we need to discuss what we'll be doing to spruce the place up ourselves. We can stuff your mattress, and I can do some work on the roof to shore it up for when the snow comes our way."

Hope nodded. "The fireplace is decent, and you already unblocked the chimney last night. All that's left to do is scavenge for food, maybe set up a garden if we're thinking of the long-term, which we should be."

"Speaking of long-term." Lyn eyed Hope's belly. "What are we going to do about that?"

Hope sighed, turning to look at the crackling fire. "I truly have no idea."

* * *

 _Then …_

Aeron didn't know why he was nervous. It wasn't like they hadn't had this conversation before. But, still, as he sat in the car with Caroline on the way to the pool, he felt his heart in his throat, pulsing like someone had clenched it in their fist and squeezed.

"Is everything okay?" Caroline asked. She could probably hear his heartbeat.

"I actually wanted to ask you about something. I, um, I wanted to talk about starting classes?"

Carolined nodded. "I can talk to Ric about seeing where you're at. Are you sure you're ready?"

Probably not. "I think I want to be, and everything else might follow."

"Okay. Just … make sure you tell me if you want to stop. We can start slow, just a few core classes a week, see where that takes you. Is there anything you're really interested in taking?"

"Yeah," said Aeron, thinking back to that explosive feeling from Hope, to the teacher that dismissed her when Louis was mocking her for being a wolf. "Magical History."

* * *

 _Now …_

Hope wiped the sweat-slick hair back from her face, panting. "Isn't it supposed to be winter?" she whined.

"Yes." Lyn raked her hoe through the dirt again and again, not tiring. "But that doesn't mean you can't work up a sweat."

Hope grunted and kept going, turning the soil until it was dark and fluffy. Working in the greenhouse at school had been so much easier. "And exactly what are we hoping to plant here? We don't have seeds."

"We have a forest full of them. We just need to look." Lyn dug her hoe into the ground, leaving it there. "You can come with me when I check the traps tonight. We'll find some plants, see what we can do with them."

"I need some witch hazel anyway. I'm out of it, and I'll need it for the protection spell."

Lyn wiped a hand over her forehead, leaving a streak of dirt in her wake. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

 _Then …_

Aeron rubbed at his temple, trying to stave off the tension headache he could feel building there. He had no idea what 80% of these words meant, and he wasn't even half-way through the paper.

At least he'd felt confident with the language literacy one. American History wasn't exactly his forte, having only been in this world for nearly two years.

Finishing up the paper early, Aeron stood and headed to the teacher's desk in the classroom commandeered for his tests, handing it to Ric.

"Done already? Guess we knew this one was going to be a miss."

Aeron breathed a sigh of relief at Ric's casual tone. His tutoring previously had been … intense, and often ending in his mother killing his tutor if he made an error.

"Is that the last one I have left to do?"

"Yep. I'll mark them all over the next day or so, just to see where you're at, and then we can talk about our game plan. How are you feeling? Still good?"

"Great." Aeron wasn't sure if his smile was genuine or not.

"Okay, then." Ric shuffled some papers, clearing room on his desk to get started. "Go take a break and enjoy yourself. I'm sure Caroline will want to know how it went, so she'll track you down at some point."

"Yeah, I figured." Caroline had been more anxious than Aeron during this whole thing, however much she tried to hide it behind wide smiles and long swigs of decaf coffee.

It was nice. Aeron didn't think Amarantha had ever cared, not like that.

* * *

 _Now …_

"But it faces east," Hope protested, looking around the bedroom cleared for her. "It'll get all the sun in the mornings."

"Which is a good thing during winter."

"Not if you're sharing your room with a newborn, it's not. I don't want him waking at the crack of dawn."

"I don't think that's something your geographical location can prevent. The baby will need the warmest room in the house when it gets chilly, and that's this one." Lyn scuffed a foot against the floorboards for emphasis. "You can't put him down in the others. They're still full of mould."

Hope cupped her belly. "We'd have a few months to clear them."

"You're getting the best room in the house." Lyn's tone left no room for argument, though her brown eyes were warm. "Get used to it." She left before Hope could counter.

Sighing, Hope waddled over to the bare mattress and sank down onto it. The fireplace in this room still needed clearing out, so they hadn't used it yet, preferring to sleep downstairs near the fire there. It really was the best room in the house, though. It would catch all the morning's warmth through the large bay windows that were once more sparkling, having been seen to by Lyn. It turned out that Illyrians were excellent at cleaning second-floor windows without a ladder.

It was a nice room, and it was going to have to do.

She was also really getting sick of carting mattresses up and down the stairs to sleep by the fire.

* * *

 _Then …_

Just as Ric said, Caroline found Aeron that afternoon. He was seated at the piano, working on a piece of his own when she came in, set her bag down, and sat beside him on the piano stool.

"How did it go?"

"Okay. Could've been better."

"American History was always going to be a long-shot," Caroline dismissed. "And it's not that important. All you need to know is that there's always more racism than you think there is."

"Sounds like a fun subject."

"Not so much, but don't tell Ric I said that. So …" Caroline bumped his side, a smile growing on her face. "It's almost two years since you arrived, and I've been thinking about your party. Maybe you'd like to help me plan it?" Caroline bent down to unzip her bag, pulling a sleek laptop from inside. She shut the piano, setting it on top and starting it up. "I made a whole folder full of ideas and stuff we can go through. Last year was pretty toned down, but this year I was thinking maybe we could go for a theme?"

Aeron had no idea what that entailed, but the excitement in Caroline's voice was infectious. "Sounds good to me."

She made a delighted noise, logging into her account on the laptop. The file marked 'AERON'S BDAY' was dead center on her desktop, and revealed dozens of sub-files labelled things like 'THEME' and 'FOOD' and 'DISTRACTIONS FOR JOSIE'.

Caroline grinned at him. "Let's get started."

* * *

 _Now …_

"And you have everything you need?"

Hope rolled her eyes. "Would I be standing out here in the freezing cold if I didn't?" She turned back to the altar she'd constructed, the blood, witch hazel, corpse of a crow. Everything she needed for a protection spell.

Protection spells were testy things, depending on where exactly you wanted the boundary drawn, be it the edge of the property or the structure within it. You could tie it to a person's life, to the owner of the property, to a talisman, to a celestial event. Hope had seen and learned them all, but this one was different. Much like everything else in Prythian.

"I need space for the spell. Stop hovering."

Lyn didn't budge. "Are you sure you have the magic for this? You had to wait so long to gather it for my home, and that was a smaller space—"

"It was also a different spell. This doesn't just keep people out; it hides the whole place from them, makes it impossible to find even if you want to."

"That sounds harder."

"It is, which is why I need some space." Hope turned around to face Lyn. "I'm a powerful first born witch. So is the baby growing in my belly. Every day he grows, he gets more powerful, and since we're bonded during pregnancy, I get more powerful, too. Stop fretting."

Lyn raised her hands innocently and took a few steps back towards the house. She sat down on the front stoop, resting her elbows on her knees and staring Hope down.

Figuring that was as good as it was going to get, Hope turned back to the altar, kneeling before it. She dipped her fingers in the blood, wiping a line onto each wrist and spreading her hands wide as she began her incantation.

The wind whipped up, lashing at her exposed skin. She felt Lyn step nearer and raised one finger to stop her from coming closer.

Just as soon as she'd started, Hope stopped, feeling something pop in her ears, like when she was driving up a mountain or spinning through water. The wind died down, leaving silence in its wake.

"Is it done?"

Hope let Lyn help her stand, then walked over to the boundary to press her hand against the ward she'd placed. She felt the magic, pulsing and responding to her presence. "Yes, it worked."

"And are you all right?"

Hope turned back to her, grinning. "Perfect."


	4. Act III

**So sorry for the long wait!**

* * *

ACT THREE

 _The Backward Step_

 _Eight years ago_ _…_

Aeron's lap was piled high with paper bags, almost to the point of blocking his view out the windshield. There was a box under his feet and several more on the back seat, weighing the car down enough to have the back bumper scrape the gutter as Caroline pulled them into the Armory driveway.

"Home, sweet home," she said, eyeing his awkward position amusedly. "Maybe stay where you are. I'll come around and unpack you."

Aeron let out a muffled noise of assent as she pulled into her parking space out the back of the main building. It was a silent agreement among them that they'd be keeping Aeron's party on the down-low, given that the other kids didn't get more than a ten-dollar cake and an awkward rendition of _Happy Birthday_ in homeroom. Caroline assured Aeron that they celebrated their birthdays when they went home for the summer, but still.

Caroline switched the car off, the hectic tones of the girl band she'd been listening to cutting out. She slid out of the car, giving Aeron just enough time to snap a selfie of himself trapped before she started unloading the bags from his lap. He sent the picture to Adam, laughing at the wild look in his own eyes. That he could joke about being trapped at all was enough to make him feel ten pounds lighter, though the fact that he was no longer strapped to his chair by a seat belt and every brown paper bag in Virginia contributed some.

Ric and Josie appeared from the back service door to help. Alaric cracked a joke Aeron didn't hear; Caroline swatted his arm for it and Josie cackled, bright-eyed.

"Come on, Aer," said Ric. "These boxes won't unpack themselves."

Caroline elbowed Ric _accidentally_ as she hefted a box into her arms. "Oh, leave him alone. We spent hours on our feet at the store." She looked at Aeron. "You can go rest if you need to."

"Ah, no, I'm fine. I actually promised Lizzie I'd meet her in the gym for a workout or something."

Josie winced. "Are you sure you want to do that? She's kind of neurotic about exercise."

"Josie."

"Sorry, Dad."

Caroline ignored them, waving a hand at Aeron. "Go on and have fun! You have, like, gym clothes right?"

"He wears them jogging every morning, Mom. I swear it's like you never pay attention."

"I pay enough attention to know you're supposed to be with your tutor right now. I swear to god, Josie, if one more of them quits I'm holding you responsible."

"It's not my fault they can't handle me."

"Anyway," Ric said, looking at Aeron. "Go get dressed and have fun. Make sure you tell Lizzie if you need a break, and make sure she listens."

"I will."

* * *

By the time Aeron met Lizzie in the empty gym she'd already worked up enough of a sweat to stain the back of her shirt. Her cheeks were pink as she dropped down from the bar she'd been using for her pull-ups, and her hair was slicked back from her forehead, the pieces of her fringe splayed like spikes.

"Took you long enough."

"Your mom likes shopping."

Lizzie chuckled. "Yeah, I know. So, do you want to get started? Maybe the treadmill? You can run, right?"

"Yes, I can run." Aeron glared at her, but she returned an innocent look. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, though."

"Oh?" Lizzie cocked an eyebrow and sat on another piece of equipment, one that looked like a gutted, mechanical rowing boat, and functioned like one too.

"Yeah. I … wondered about starting to work on my magic."

"But you never use it."

"Because I haven't needed to. But I thought it might make sense to get back into the habit, to stop avoiding that part of myself so much."

Lizzie considered him carefully. "And you've talked to Vincent about this?"

"Yes." _No._ "He thinks it's a good idea, except that I don't really want to tell anyone else? I mean, I'd rather keep it between us, if you think you can help me."

"Why not any of the adults? Aunt Freya would be a better bet than me for this."

"My magic isn't anything she's seen before, so it's not like her experience counts in her favour. Plus, I trust you." _And you won_ _'t ask the same questions. And even if you do, I won't have to answer._

Lizzie went quiet for a moment. "Okay, I guess. Do you still want to work out, or just pretend we are while we work on your magic?"

"Um, both, I guess?" He needed to be strong in every way he could. He had a bad feeling, and he didn't want to be unprepared for where it would lead.

"We can do that. Do you want to sit somewhere? You can bring one of those over." She motioned towards a line of giant plastic balls. Aeron grabbed one by its handle and pulled it over, finding it sturdy and full enough to sit on. It was a weird sensation, and his expression must have given something away because Lizzie laughed and said, "They're weird, but you'll get used to it."

"I'll take your word for it." Aeron made sure to plant both feet on the ground to stop himself from slipping off, and even threw an arm out to touch the edge of a treadmill to make sure he wouldn't fall.

"So," said Lizzie, still pulling on the rowing machine, "what kind of magic can you do?"

"Well, I'm a daemati, which I apparently got from my father. I can get into people's heads pretty easily."

"Do you use it much?"

"Not since I got here. I used it on Caroline when she met me, just to make sure she wouldn't hurt me. I haven't needed it since."

"You haven't been tempted?"

 _Only every time I hear the name Louis Leroux._ "Occasionally, but it seems like a violation of privacy."

"Okay, well, I give you permission."

"What?"

"Look in my head, right now. See if you can still do it."

"Fine." Aeron sighed, reaching out tentatively and in a way he'd done a thousand times before. He found Lizzie's mind, like touching something in the darkness, and slipped inside, finding an image of a blonde woman he'd never seen before inside. "Who's that?"

"Keira Knightley."

"Why are you thinking about her?"

"Because I'm a lesbian, Aeron. Focus. Does it feel like every other time you've done it?"

"Yes."

"Not harder? Not different?"

"It's always been the same."

"Okay, you can stop now."

Withdrawing, Aeron sat back on the ball and watched Lizzie carefully. "Was that okay?"

Lizzie shrugged. "I don't know, I've never done this before. Was it okay for you?"

"Yeah. That's always been easy. My mother … she wanted me to learn it. You know, for spying purposes."

"Right. What else did she have you learn?"

"Glamours."

"Like, making something look like something else?" At Aeron's nod, she grinned. "Try it, then. Make me look like I'm rowing through rapids."

"Well, that's complicated. It's easier to change an object than the entire scenery, but I can use a daemati trick to change your perception if you want?"

"No, we already did that. Why can't you change the scenery?"

"I can, but it'll drain my power."

"Okay, so your power gets drained. What does that feel like?"

"Exhaustion. I slept for days once when my mother pushed me to—it was bad. I don't really want to relive it."

Lizzie didn't look at him sympathetically, per se, but he still felt it from her. Perhaps he wasn't fully out of her head after all. "So no burning you out. Noted. Is there anything she didn't want you to try that you want to?"

Aeron took a moment to think. Amarantha had been adamant that Aeron learn daemati tricks that rendered the rest of his arsenal useless. He'd learned a few offensive spells, but fae magic didn't really work like that. You imagined what you wanted to do, and you were either strong enough or you weren't. Aeron had never mastered finesse, though, and he wasn't sure what he could do on a small scale. "I never got to test the limits of how specific I can be. I never got to summon things and banish them." The latter had always sounded fun.

"Summon as in just … produce shit? Out of nowhere?"

"Yeah, I think that's how it works. I was never taught about it, so I don't know exactly where it all comes from."

"Okay. Get me a cake."

"Uh, what kind?"

"Strawberry cheesecake."

Aeron had had one once, at the twins' fifteenth birthday. He'd liked it enough and remembered it well, so when he extended his hand and focused on his memory if it he wasn't surprised to find an identical cheese cake springing onto his palm, resting on a replica of the silver platter used at the twins' birthday.

Lizzie grinned. "Wicked. Can you summon a knife to cut it with?"

Aeron let go of the treadmill and extended the other hand, imagining a simple knife to cut it with. What he got instead was something like an explosion coming from his other hand, spraying cake all over the room and blowing him backwards off the ball he was sitting on.

Silence fell as Aeron struggled up to look at Lizzie, who was still on the rowing machine but caked with … well, cake.

"I'm so sorry," Aeron said, panting. "Too much, too soon, I guess."

Lizzie stayed deathly still, cheesecake sliding off her face and onto her tank top. "I don't suppose you know any cleaning spells?"

* * *

 _Now_ _…_

Hope hefted the basket up, grunting for effect.

"That's full of herbs and lighter than a feather," Lyn shot back at her from up ahead where she was marching up a hill. "Don't be dramatic."

"I'm also carrying a bowling ball in my abdomen." Hope struggled after Lyn, accepting the offered hand to help her up the last few steps and onto the top of the hill.

"I don't know what that is, but my point about your melodrama stands." Lyn unhooked her canteen from her bag and offered it to Hope, who accepted it gratefully.

"A bowling ball is a sports thing meant to knock stuff down. It's heavy, obviously." Hope uncorked the canteen and drank the last few drops down. "Need to fill up."

Lyn caught the canteen tossed at her deftly. "There's a stream down there. Would you like me to roll you down to it?"

"Fuck off." Hope walked past her, clinging onto plants on her way down the hillside. She was covered in sweat and dirt and looking forward to the chance to wash off. The bath-tub at the cottage wasn't ideal for her current size, and she relished the chance to be immersed in water again. She'd gotten that particular fascination from her mate, she supposed.

Lyn caught up with her at the riverside and dropped to one knee to fill the canteen. She eyed Hope, who was busy shucking her shoes and cloak. "Going for a swim?"

Hope unbuttoned her blouse and stripped down to her undershirt, then bent down to fold her trouser-legs up to her knees. "Desperate for it." She turned to wade into the water but sensed Lyn's intense gaze and turned back. "What?"

"Interesting mark on your shoulder," she commented. "Is it a tattoo?"

Hope reached back to ghost her fingers over her mark, the one she and her mother shared. The last living Labonairs. "It's a birthmark, actually." Anxiety surged in her gut, the drive to protect her wolf from outsiders, to keep the secret.

"It's interesting," was Lyn's only comment. "Hurry up and clean off. We need to check the traps and get back to do some gardening before dark."

Hope rolled her eyes. "Yes, ma'am," she said, then spread her arms and dropped into the water with all the grace of a corpse.

* * *

 _Then_ _…_

Aeron downed water like it was air, gulping it back until he had to tear the bottle away from his mouth just to take a breath of actual air. He set the bottle down, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a rag.

"Need a break?" asked Lizzie.

Head bowing a little, Aeron nodded. "Just for a bit." He sat on a machine he'd never used, one with weights you pulled in from the sides, and tried to catch his breath.

"If it's any consolation, you're doing better than anyone else here would."

"No one else here has fae magic."

"Yeah, but I bet you're even better than they would be if they did. You're top of your class, Aeron."

Aeron laughed. "And you're the best teacher I've ever had, which is about as much of an achievement as me being the best student."

"All your teachers have been monsters and assholes. We'll see if I measure up once you start school for real. I've heard my dad's pretty good."

"He's not your teacher too?"

"Oh, he is, I just can't judge impartially. You ready to go again?"

The answer was no, but it wasn't like extra time would change that, so Aeron said, "Yep. Are you?"

Lizzie shrugged and offered him a hand to help him stand. "My part's easy. Treadmill or bike?"

"Rowing machine."

"Ooh, a new one. Come on over then."

Aeron took one last sip of water before parting with his bottle and joining Lizzie by the rowing machine. He clambered onto it, finding the seat more comfortable than it looked. Then again, he'd thought that about the exercise bike until he got five minutes into the work out and could feel it fusing with his pelvis.

"Okay, start rowing at your own pace."

Aeron did as instructed, planting his feet and starting out slow. His legs felt a little wobbly from the treadmill that morning, but he was steady enough to keep going.

"You at a good pace?" asked Lizzie. At Aeron's nod, she continued, "Okay, read my mind."

Aeron reached out, searching for her thoughts. She'd gotten better at making this part harder, at keeping herself at a distance. This time it was all too easy, and he found the image of a fork awaiting him. Within moments, a fork dropped right in front of Lizzie, hitting the carpet.

"Good job. Can you make me a nicer one?"

The image in Lizzie's head changed to one with finer detailing, obviously made of real silver. Aeron screwed his eyes shut as he visualised it, then heard it hit the carpet beside him.

"Exactly. Now how about …" The image changed to a short dagger with a plain hilt. Aeron took a moment with it, turning the image over in his mind's eye.

And then he heard the solid thunk.

Slowing down his rowing, Aeron turned to see the dagger lying on the carpet. Lizzie bent down to retrieve it, turning it over in her hands. When she looked up at him, it was with a grin he'd never seen her wear before. "Awesome. Do you think you can make a light saber?"

Aeron laughed and shook his head. "Come on, let's go again. I almost lost my concentration; I want to see how far I can push it."

"Fine," Lizzie sighed. "But you better be prepared to make me a huge fucking broadsword. I have a date on Friday night and it makes for a great conversation starter."

"Deal."

* * *

 _Now_ _…_

"I need to find a cave," Hope told Lyn over breakfast, spooning egg into her mouth as she watched Lyn roll her eyes.

"Whatever for?"

"I'll tell you when we get there." It was a tactic intended to stall more than anything else, but it had the desired effect.

"Fine. But you're cooking breakfast tomorrow."

"I was going to do that anyway, so it's not really a punishment."

Lyn's eyebrows shot up. "Not a punishment? Really? Then try doing it without whining the whole time."

"Well, I will."

"Good. Now pass the basil."

* * *

They walked for the better part of the morning, following the river towards the small pocket of mountains east of the safehouse. The riverside turned craggy, rocks spearing through the soil, moss taking over where grass had sprung not three steps previously.

"Looks promising," said Lyn, stepping ahead. She used a sanded tree branch as a staff to help her maneuver over the rocks without falling or twisting her injured knee. It didn't bother her so much anymore, but it still wasn't the steadiest it had ever been.

Hope, for her part, ended up crawling once it got too steep. Walking brought dangers as her balance grew worse with every day that passed and every inch she expanded, so it was on all fours that she found the cave that Lyn was already waiting for her in.

"It's dry enough, but close to the water. Decent size, I suppose." Lyn ran a hand over a thread of ivy the creeping across the cave wall. "It'd help if I knew what you needed it for."

Instead of standing, Hope simply turned around and sat at the edge of the cave, looking up at where the dark took over in place of a ceiling. "It's high up there."

"Is that a problem?"

Hope shook her head. "You should sit down."

"Don't tell me we hiked here just to have a heart-to-heart."

"Do I look like I'm in a condition to be suggesting something like this just for fun?"

"Of course not," Lyn replied, sitting beside Hope and stretching her knee out straight. "Heart-to-hearts are never fun."

"Agreed. Though I do have a confession to make."

"What is it? Don't tell me—you're not really pregnant, you've just been using it to manipulate me into helping you."

"I am pregnant, but I have also been manipulating you."

"Big surprise." Lyn made a show of settling in, dragging herself to the edge of the cave where she could rest her back against the cave wall. She reached down and began kneading her knee with her fingers. "Well? Go on."

Hope drew in a deep breath, hands fisting where she'd shoved them into her armpits. It was chilly here, with the spray from the river splashing up on the rocks near their feet. The air was moist enough for her to taste mildew on the back of her tongue. "I lied to you about the mark on my shoulder."

"It's not a birth mark."

"No, it is. I just didn't explain it."

"If omissions are lies now, I have some confessions, too."

"Save them. This … it's more important than just an omission. I didn't tell you because I didn't trust you."

"And that's changed in the last week?"

"No. I just realised I have no one else left to trust."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Hope. "Now shut up."

Lyn made a show of closing her mouth and staring Hope down.

"The mark on my shoulder is something that everyone in my family has. Well, on my mother's side. We've had a few names over the centuries, but my mother's maiden name was Labonair, and that had been our name for a few generations before her. The Labonairs, we hold a special place in the supernatural community I was raised in. We're kind of a royalty, I guess?"

This must have been too much for Lyn, who piped up with, "If you want me to call you 'princess', you're going to have to make more than one decent breakfast."

"No, that's not what I'm saying. The community I'm talking about—we're not witches. I am a witch, but I get that from my dad's side. We're werewolves."

"Were-what?"

"Werewolves. We live like normal humans most of the time, maybe a bit stronger, better senses, more attractive—"

"Oh, of course."

Hope returned Lyn's smirk, but dropped it pretty quickly. "And we turn into wolves on the full moon."

Lyn blinked, taking a moment to process. "You don't."

"I'm pregnant, so no."

"So you did before you were pregnant?"

"Actually, my curse wasn't active yet."

"Curse?"

Hope groaned. "You're not getting this. Look—"

"It's not my fault you're a piss-poor storyteller," Lyn said, arms raised innocently.

Hope sighed, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "Werewolves are born, just like witches. I've been a wolf since birth, even if I wasn't turning, because it's a bloodline thing. Our curses are triggered by our first kill. When I arrived here, I killed some of Jora's soldiers, my first kills, and I waited until the next full moon to turn. Except that when I got there, all set up in my cave—"

"You didn't turn."

Hope nodded. "And that's how I first knew I was pregnant."

"So, once you give birth, the first full moon after that you'll turn?"

"Yep. Which is why I'm telling you, because I'll need you to watch the baby."

"Really? Because I was planning on having nothing to do with him."

"Funny. But seriously, Lyn. Until I recover from the birth and can track down Jora to end this, I'll need you to step up."

"And afterwards?" asked Lyn. "Once this is over, and I return home as a failed spy, thanks to you, what are you doing to do? Who'll watch the baby while you run wild?"

"I'll figure that out. But until then, do you think you can help me?"

Lyn met Hope's gaze, returning it in earnest. "Of course I can. We're in this together, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are."

They sat in silence for a moment, both considering their position carefully.

"Come on," said Lyn, grabbing her staff and standing. "I think we can find you a better cave than this. And why do you have to turn in a cave, anyway?"

"I can spell it so I can't get out." Hope took Lyn's offered hand and stood. "Makes it less likely I'll eat any humans."

"Or fae."

Hope put on a simpering look. "But what if they're tasty?"

Lyn flipped her off on her way out of the cave, leaving a laughing Hope in her wake.

* * *

 _Then_ _…_

Aeron had been raised to spy, so, naturally, he hated doing so. Everything Amarantha had given him was loathsome by his reckoning, and the affinity for sleuthing was, too.

That didn't mean he had any problem leaving his window open to get a look at Lizzie's date that Friday night. It was a human girl, supposedly, one she'd met while researching a history project at the Mystic Falls library. She took the corner into the Armory driveway at a reasonable speed, pulling the cutesy yellow car up to the front of the school.

"Hey."

"Hey!"

Aeron smirked at the sound of the scintillating, date-worthy conversation. Lizzie hopping into the car and shut the door, muffling their voices.

"That guy is, like, staring," said the girl, and for a moment Aeron thought she was talking about him.

"That's just my stepdad."

"Stepdad?" she asked, tone incredulous. In her defense, Klaus did look later 20s, tops.

"Ah, yeah." Lizzie chuckled uncomfortably. The downsides to human girlfriends was explaining the family in human terms without alarming anyone. "My mom can really get it. Anyway, he'll just watch us drive off. My sister—his daughter—was in an accident a while back, so everyone's really testy about it."

"Oh. Well, I'm a good driver! I promise."

"I believe you. Just don't honk the horn on your way out."

"Lol," said the girl, out loud with her actual mouth. From the other side of the house, Aeron heard an eavesdropping Caroline sigh.

Lizzie, though, laughed out loud—a rare sound from her—and said, "Come on. We don't want to miss the movie."

"It's a Marvel movie. There'll be a sequel in five minutes' time." They both laughed as the girl pulled out of the driveway, taking extra care to adhere to the speed limit as she turned onto the main road.

And then they were gone.

"Calm down," Aeron heard Bonnie tell Caroline. "It's just a date. She'll be back in five hours."

"You're right. Anyway, tell me more about your plans for the holiday …"

As Caroline and Bonnie's conversation continued, Aeron tuned out. He could still hear Klaus's heartbeat out the front of the school; apparently, he'd taken some time to gaze into the distance as he was often wont to do. Not that Aeron could complain. He was staring out at the stars as well.

Tearing himself away from the view, Aeron tried to gather his thoughts. With Lizzie gone and everyone else preoccupied, he had other things to do.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed. A message from Adam.

 _You ready?_

Aeron quickly tapped back, _Definitely. I have the sage you sent me._

 _Good. Just wait until everyone_ _'s at dinner, and we can get started._

 _OK._

So Aeron settled in to wait.

* * *

The sounds of dinner emanated from downstairs—the clamoring of excited children, the scraping of cutlery on plates. Aeron waited until they'd been going for ten minutes or so before departing, phone in his sweaty palm, ready to call Adam. He carried the bundle of dried sage in his other hand, the sleeve pulled down over it in case anyone walked past.

The boys' dorms were on the west wing. There were more air fresheners in the halls, Aeron noted, and likely with good reason. The names of the occupants were on the doors, usually two or three of them, and there wasn't a single sound but for Aeron's footsteps. He was alone. Sort of.

His phone buzzed. Adam. _You there?_

 _Finding his dorm now._

 _Did you bring a lighter for the sage?_

Aeron finally found the door he was looking for. It was just like the others, deceptively plain and with a placard that read LEROUX, MEADOWS, & MELKER. The door was unlocked, almost too easy as it gave way to Aeron's shove and admitted him into the room behind it.

He tapped in reply, _No, but I can light it._ He and Lizzie had tried a few fire spells and he had it mostly under control. He was better at it than using a lighter, something which he'd only ever seen Caroline do at birthday parties when lighting the cake.

The room was a tad larger than Aeron's, though it felt smaller. There was a set of bunk beds on one wall and a solitary bed on the other. Where the bunk beds were messy and unmade, covered in crumbs and the like, the single bed was pristine. The stack of textbooks beside it were all meticulously labelled with LOUIS LEROUX.

Aeron quickly shut the door and lit the sage, holding it in his hand and dialling with the other.

Adam answered immediately. _"Hey. Lit the sage?"_

"Yeah. You're sure it's working?"

" _Silencing spells are kind of the first thing you learn once you hit puberty. I'm sure it's fine. What can you see?"_

"His bed might be the cleanest thing I've ever seen."

" _I'm surprised he has the time to make his bed in between all the bullying and general assholery. How long do you have to search?_

"Just until dinner is over, so maybe another 20 minutes?" Aeron bent down to look under the bed, finding nothing there, not even a speck of dust. "I can't see anything interesting yet."

" _Look in his backpack."_

Aeron located it and put the phone on speaker, setting it on the floor. He tugged open the zip with one hand, still holding the sage aloft in the other. "Next time we do this, remind me to bring a bowl or something to put the sage in. I'd rather not set anything on fire, but holding it's a pain."

Adam laughed. _"Will do. What's in his bag?"_

"Nothing interesting. Just some more school books, a grimoire."

" _Look through the grimoire."_

"Really? It's his school-issued one. I doubt there's a spell titled _How to kill a Mikaelson_ in there."

" _If there is and you don't look, you're really gonna feel like a douche."_

"Point made." Aeron tugged it free from the bag and set it on the floor, flipping through it quickly. It was the same as Josie's, from what he could tell—some Latin, some English, a few neat diagrams. Louis was definitely a better artist than Josie, not that that was hard. Aeron had never seen Hope's grimoire, but he imagined the illustrations were beautiful.

" _Earth to Aeron. Everything okay?"_

"Uh, yeah. There's nothing here that I can see. Some elemental spells, a few celestial binding spells, protection, concealing, that kind of thing. There are a few I don't recognise, but I'm not exactly an expert."

" _Take some pictures. You can send it to me later and I'll check them out."_

Aeron struggled with using the camera on his phone one-handed, ending up sticking the unburnt end of the sage in his mouth so he could use both hands. He snapped a few pictures, then took the sage out so he could talk.

"Done. I'll look through his closet and get out of here."

The closet yielded nothing interesting. All the clothes were either his uniform or boring shit like polos and khakis. Aeron sifted through his sock drawer at Adam's instruction, finding nothing.

"I don't think there's anything here," Aeron admitted bitterly, more than a little pissed. "I really thought there'd be something better."

" _It's fine. Once you start classes we can try and find a way to get into his phone, maybe copy some of his messages with his family. We'll know more then."_

"Yeah." Aeron didn't have the first clue how to do that, but Adam sounded certain. "Thanks for coming with me, I guess."

" _In a sense, sure. You should probably put everything back as you found it and get going, though. He might come back early."_

"Good point. Thanks for the help."

" _No problem. Tell me if there's anything I can do to help. And send me those pics, right? I can get started on the Latin translation."_

"I will. Talk to you later." Aeron hung up, tucking his phone into his pocket. He shut the closet and shoved the grimoire back into the backpack, lifting it up to return to its place at the foot of the bed. As he gripped it he felt something hard under his palm and stopped in place. He knelt down, examining the strap he'd gripped and finding the whole section hard, like there was plastic beneath. Running a hand over the other strap, he found it soft and malleable, the mesh fabric making for an easy grip.

There was something in the first strap.

Aeron returned to the plastic lump, pulling at the seams with his fingers. With some prodding he located an opening, slipping his fingers inside and pulling the plastic free.

The plastic was blue, a little worn at the edges, and inscribed with a bear-shaped logo and the number 160. Attached was a large key, too big for any of the doors Aeron had seen around the Armory. The shed, maybe? Why would Louis have a key to the shed?

Aeron set the key on the bed and snapped a few pictures of it, turning it over and making sure to get all angles before he returned it to where it belonged. He blew out the sage and waited a moment for it to cool before tucking it into his pocket and ducking out of the room, mind wheeling.

* * *

 _Now_ _…_

Hope shouldered the canvas bag, the blankets wedged under her arm and forcing it away from her body. She was almost there—almost at the cave, where Lyn was waiting. The rocks were growing slipperier as the river swelled with the recent rains, water still sluicing down from the mountain streams and funnelling into this particular crevice. The journey was treacherous, but Lyn had secured a rope to help with the short climb up and Hope made it unscathed.

They'd found a better cave a ways down the river, one high enough to stay dry during the summer rains (or so Lyn assured her). They'd fitted it with a cot, some chains, and now Hope was bringing some blankets up for herself. Lyn insisted that focusing on getting it more comfortable for her transformation was the key to worrying about it less, and Hope went along with it more for convenience than anything else.

It was nice to have something else to focus on. They'd planted whatever they could and had a strategy in place for hunting and setting traps—even the safe house was mostly redone, cleared of dust and filth, all the weeds hacked back. Without much more to do, they were going to grow bored.

So Hope's upcoming transformation was a good thing, if only to keep their minds busy.

Hope passed the first cave they'd found, careful on the mossy rocks. The spray of the water kept her wet, her hair curling at her neck. She wished she'd thought to braid it before she left, but Lyn had agreed to meet her at the cave at midday after her hunt and Hope hadn't wanted to keep her waiting. (Or hadn't wanted to endure the complaining from Lyn if she kept her waiting, anyway.)

In no time at all the cave was looming ahead. Hope started whistling a tune she knew Lyn found annoying (some Beyonce song or something that Lyn could never hope to properly appreciate). She got louder with each step, hugging the bag of blankets to her body until she felt the baby kick in response. Colour high in her cheeks and more than a little breathless from the walk, Hope rounded the mouth of the cave—

Only to find Lyn, standing in front of Jora and with a blade at her neck.

* * *

 **A special thank you to Writersaremad for your lovely reviews! I appreciate all of them so much, you have no idea.**

 **As for your theory about the Hope/Hayley parallels, well ... we'll have to wait and see ;)**


	5. Act IV

**I cannot express how sorry I am for how long this has taken! I've been as sick as always and definitely not managing my time well, so my apologies to you all.**

* * *

ACT FOUR

 _The Rising Tide_

 _Eight years ago_ _…_

The fire crackled, dissolving the paper like wafer on a tongue. Aeron watched his wish crumble to ash. It was supposed to be meaningful, but he barely remembered what it was.

He had other things to think of—Louis Leroux-shaped things, occupying him day and night. What to investigate, what to hide, who to tell. He was starting to think perhaps he wasn't cut out for the sleuthing lifestyle.

"Get the bourbon away from the fire, you wanker!"

Kol snickered at Rebekah, pretending to tip his glass toward the flames. She swatted him for it, inadvertently spilling a few droplets into the fire. They tousled, drawing laughter from the others ringing the fire. The back lawn had been set up for their Christmas festivities, and despite the cold they'd ventured out, crowded around a bonfire like moths around a lamp.

"I guess I know what my wish is going to be," said Kol, trapped in a head-lock. "A weaker sister."

"But we already have Niklaus."

More laughter ensued, the kind that Aeron couldn't help but join in on.

"Calling me a 'sister' as an insult, _sister_?" Klaus drawled from the camp chair he reclined in nearby. "And here I thought you were a feminist."

Rebekah knocked Kol toward the fire and turned to grin at Klaus. "Oh, please. I invented feminism."

"You did not!" Keelin objected from where she snuggled under a blanket with Freya.

"I've been eating rapists for a thousand years. Surely that counts enough."

"Hey," Freya objected, glancing at her boys. They were on the other side of the fire cooking marshmallows with Elijah. "Watch what you say while the kids are here."

"Oh, please. As if they aren't going to carry on the time-honoured family tradition."

"My children aren't vampires—"

"They will be eventually—"

"Well, it's their decision, actually—"

Aeron zoned out, turning his back to the fire. He gazed up toward the Armory, the lights spilling out from the windows on the bottom floor. Caroline, Marcel, and the twins were still inside, having no interest in freezing their asses off just to cook marshmallows and bicker.

Upstairs, a light flicked on. The twins' bedroom. Lizzie's face appeared in the window, looking out. She must have noted the others' preoccupation with Rebekah and Kol's fight as she looked right at Aeron and motioned for him to join her.

It wasn't easy, pulling himself from the warmth and starting the trek back up towards the Armory. There was no wind, thankfully, and no snow to slush under his feet. Just crisp grass and his breath billowing in front of his face like smoke from a chimney.

He entered through the back door to the kitchen, heading through to the cafeteria. They'd had to use that for Christmas dinner, nowhere else being big enough to accommodate everyone. The remains of Christmas dinner was scattered over four tables in total. Caroline, Marcel, and Josie were gathered at one of them, cooking marshmallows over candles.

"Aeron!" greeted Marcel, raising a marshmallow at him. "Maybe you can help settle a dispute we're having. Caroline seems to think it's acceptable to eat charcoal."

"That's how it gets all melty inside!"

Aeron unzipped his jacket. "And Josie?"

Josie snatched the marshmallow from Marcel's skewer and shoved it in her mouth before he could object. "Sugar is sugar and I plead the fifth."

"Would you like some, Aeron?" Caroline offered, pushing the packet toward him.

"I'm fine. Just wanted to go get some rest."

Caroline looked him over, almost like she could see inside him. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Aeron promised. He headed past them, the sound of Josie and Marcel bickering following him all the way upstairs.

He headed to Lizzie's room on the girls' wing. He didn't spend a lot of time there, but he knew his way around well enough. The door was open when he arrived, but he knocked on the frame anyway.

"Hey," Lizzie greeted from the desk. The dormroom housed four girls and had a two-person desk against the wall. Her roommates had all gone home for Christmas, leaving Lizzie the run of the place. "I think I found something last night. Pull up a chair."

Aeron did as instructed, dropping down onto an office chair and wheeling it closer. Lizzie had her laptop open on a website that even Aeron could tell was really poorly designed. Beige with red text—he knew from Klaus and Hope's art ramblings that those two colours rarely went well together.

"Matheson Storage Company," Aeron read. "Sounds interesting."

"Yep. And look at the symbol."

Lizzie moved the cursor over the logo in the top-left corner: a bear. It was a more sophisticated animation than Aeron had seen before, but it was a familiar shape.

"That's the same logo that was on the key tag I found in Louis' bag."

"Yep. It's a storage facility out near Newport. We should check it out."

"You don't have your license."

"My girlfriend does." At the look Aeron gave her, Lizzie blushed a bit. "What?"

"Nothing, I just … didn't know you'd labelled it."

"We've labelled it as 'no big deal'. Anyway, she can drive us both, except that Mom will hover if she hears that you're leaving without her."

"She wouldn't stop me." Aeron was certain of it.

"No, but it would be your first time out of the Armory without an adult present. She'd worry, and we should probably avoid the attention. Maybe you can winnow there?"

"Not if I haven't been there before."

"You hadn't been here before, but you still winnowed out to the woods."

"That's … complicated."

"Maybe I can send you pictures? You can just imagine me and try to find where I am."

"I can try. What about your girlfriend?"

"What about her?"

"I mean, she doesn't know you're a witch. How are we explaining this to her?"

"Oh, I already told her I'm a witch. She thinks it's cool. Mom doesn't know she knows, though."

"Was that … smart?"

"Probably not." Lizzie closed her laptop. "I'm gonna go down and burn my wish. Are you coming?"

Aeron shook his head. "I already burned mine."

"Really?" Lizzie leaned forward. "What did you wish for?"

"You can't ask that," said Aeron, shoving her chair away. "It's against the rules."

Lizzie's chair squeaked as she stood. "Whatever. I have a girlfriend to impress now, so I'm gonna go wish for bigger boobs."

* * *

 _Now_ _…_

Hope watched as the blade pressed into the flesh of Lyn's neck, silver metal stark against brown skin like her father's paints, spilled on the floor and swirling together—it didn't belong there, she'd made a mistake, she had to undo it, _I_ _'m sorry, I'm sorry_ —

"How lovely to see you again, my dearest Hope." Jora's words were light, his smile beaming. Like a friendly neighbour more than a hated foe with his blade inches away from an innocent woman's carotid. His gaze slid down to Hope's belly. "And blooming so nicely."

"Fuck you."

"Ah, ah, ah." Jora tightened his grip, making Lyn hiss. "You really don't want to upset me right now."

"Let her go." Hope's fingers itched for her blade—the blade she'd left back at the house, where it was safe from the bandits that Lyn warned her were lurking in the woods. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Remove your weapons and I'll consider it."

Hope stared him down, desperate to do something. Anything.

"Hope," said Lyn, voice softer than usual. The blade pressed in tighter. "Hope, don't."

Ignoring her, Hope unstrapped the daggers from her forearms, letting them clatter to the floor. The guards flanking her kicked the blades out of her reach.

"Kneel," barked Jora.

Hope dropped to one knee, then the other. The sharp cold of the stone beneath her bled through her trousers and into her knees.

Jora grinned at the sight of her. A hiss dragged through Lyn's clenched teeth, her whole body tensing. Hope saw the decision in Lyn's eyes before she acted on it.

Breathless, Hope groaned, "No—"

It was too late.

Lyn threw her wings out behind her, unfurling them and knocking Jora back. She ducked out of the way of his blade, but it still caught her cheek and left a ribbon of red in its wake.

A guard lunged for her, stopping short when Jora raised a hand. "The winged bitch is mine," he said, spinning the dagger in his hand. Lyn faced him, hands balled into fists, but he looked only at Hope. "You know she won't win."

Lyn dove for Jora but he ducked, landing a blow on her side. She went high, wings grazing the cave ceiling, only to have Jora grab her foot in one large hand and use it to slam her onto the floor. The impact drove the breath from her with a pained groan.

"You know she cannot defeat me," Jora continued to Hope, kicking Lyn once, twice. Something cracked. "That's why you haven't intervened." Another kick. "You know I'll slit her throat if you do."

"Leave her," Hope said, voice raw. "Leave her and I'll come with you. I won't fight."

"I wish you would." Jora swept Lyn up by the throat, holding her in mid-air. Her wings hung limply, one of them blood. Blood eked from the corners of her mouth. "Not being able to harm your babe would make it an interesting fight. Why no magic to save her?" Jora tightened his grip. "Afraid you'll burn her as well as the rest of us?"

Lyn spat blood into Jora's face. She lifted a leg and struck his chest, his stomach, his groin, but he didn't release her, only tightened his grip enough to choke. "Ral, the potion."

One of the guards set a bottle of green, viscous liquid in front of Hope.

"Drink it," said Jora, "and I'll let your friend live."

"What is it?"

"It won't hurt your child," Jora promised. "You know I wouldn't let that happen."

Hope picked up the bottle and uncorked it. It smelled like death.

Lyn whimpered a hoarse, "No," her gaze fixed on Hope.

Hope met Lyn's eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said, and tipped the bottle back. The potion fizzed and burned where it hit her tongue, the roof of her mouth, her throat. She gagged but kept it down, feeling the burn flood through her chest. She could've sworn it trickled down into her bloodstream, pushing at the veins in her wrists and neck, driving her pulse rate up.

When she tried to speak, her mouth refused to obey. So did the hand she tried to raise to her lips, the legs she tried to stand on. It took incredible effort just to blink her eyes. The baby kicked furiously inside her.

Just as Hope began sagging forward, hands grabbed her from behind and lowered her to the ground on her back.

She heard a thud and a whimper. Lyn must have been dropped to the ground.

Jora appeared over Hope, smiling down at her. "It's a rather effective paralytic. I'm glad to see it works on you, whatever you are." Looking to his guards, he ordered, "Fetch the stretcher. We're leaving."

Hope tried to scream. All that came was a low groan through the open mouth she couldn't close.

Jora knelt beside her, taking her hand in his. He pressed his other hand to her belly. As with the stone, the cold of his flesh bled through her clothes into her skin.

No, not cold. Wet. Wet with Lyn's blood.

"I'm so glad you've decided to join me," said Jora. "We're going to perform miracles, you and I."

" _Take your hands off her, you bastard."_

Jora froze, not even glancing in the direction of Lyn's voice. "Ral."

"Sir?"

"Kill the Illyrian."

Hope saw nothing but the ceiling of the cave as the guard stepped around her, headed for Lyn. There was shuffling, crying, soft thuds.

"Get your hands off me—I'm going to—"

A loud crack echoed through the cave. Moments later, Ral walked past with Lyn slung over his shoulder. Hope caught a glimpse of her face, slack and with blood dripping from her forehead, spattering over the cave floor. A few drops landed on Hope.

Ral continued out of sight, walking out of the cave's mouth. Then there was a splash.

Hope's screams turned to whimpers, her attempts to strangle becoming barely-twitching fingers. Every spell she tried to cast failed, tears welling in her eyes instead.

"It's best to stay calm, Hope," said Jora. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped Lyn's blood from Hope's cheek. "For the baby's sake."

Hope's sobs caught in her throat, choking her up.

"Here the stretcher comes."

Hope felt herself lifted up onto the stretcher, the worn, hessian material scratching at her bare arms, at the small of her back where her blouse had ridden up. They carried her out of the cave carefully, down the incline at Jora's instruction. She wished they'd toss her off. Drop her onto the forest floor. Fling her into the river.

They kept on walking, pulling Hope along. Her tears stopped coming, and she became nothing at all.

* * *

 _Then_ _…_

Aeron winnowed into the storage facility at midnight.

Combining the photos Lizzie sent him, the location on Google Maps, and whatever tracking magic he could, Aeron arrived about three aisles over from where Lizzie was. He could smell her deodorant and hear her talking lowly, so he made his way through the maze of identical blue storage units until he found her, standing side-by-side with her girlfriend.

Lizzie barely acknowledged Aeron, too busy scanning the units she walked past. "This is Desiree," she said, waving at the girl attached to her hip. "Desiree, this is Aeron."

Desiree was a five-foot girl with a thousand watt smile that she beamed at him as she said, "It's so nice to meet you!"

Aeron tried to return her smile with one of his own, but Lizzie grabbed him before he could. "I think it's this one," she said, pointing at the container in front of them. Number 160.

Lizzie raised her hands, muttering a low unlocking spell. Nothing happened. "Well, I had to try." She took of her backpack and rummaged through it, finding a vial.

Desiree's eyes widened. "Is that blood?"

"It's my sister's."

"Josie's?"

"Hope's. They keep some in the office in case any of the vampire students get accidental wolf bites. It usually heals them up nicely." Lizzie uncorked it.

"And what do we have it for now?" asked Aeron.

"Hope's a tribrid. Her blood has special magical properties." Lizzie tipped some out onto her finger, making Desiree gag. She stopped and glanced at her girlfriend. "You can go wait by the car if you want."

Desiree shook her head firmly. "I said I was fine with witch stuff, and I meant it. I just didn't expect blood."

"There's no way around it," Lizzie said regretfully, tone softer than Aeron thought he'd ever heard it. "You can turn around."

"I know. Just … keep going."

Lizzie chanced one more glance at Desiree before she turned back to the matter at hand. Tipping a bit more blood on her fingertip, she began painting it onto the door of the unit—first a circle, then a line through it. She muttered the unlocking spell again—this time, with results. Something in the mechanism fell into place.

Aeron bent down, lifting the roller door up. Before he could spark some faelight to see by Desiree turned the torch light on on the back of her phone, shining it inside to reveal rows of bookcases.

Empty bookcases.

Lizzie stepped inside, walking right to the middle of the unit and spinning around to take it all in. "What the fuck." She ran her hands over the wooden shelves, the flat of her palm brushing over every surface, top and bottom. "There's no concealing spell. I'd be able to feel it."

"Then what is this supposed to be?"

"I don't know, but it's been cleared out." Lizzie looked furious enough to kick the barren furniture. "There's nothing here."

"That can't be right." Aeron shook his head. "Maybe there's—" He cut himself off, freezing in place.

"Maybe there's what?" Lizzie prompted impatiently.

"Footsteps."

"Maybe there's foot—"

"No, _someone_ _'s coming_." That galvanised Lizzie into action. She pulled Desiree and Aeron both inside the container, shutting the door with a wordless spell. Aeron heard the lock click shut, then felt a sealing spell settle over the container like a heavy air seal. And it only took 20 seconds, all told.

The footsteps came nearer—heels click-clocking on the cement at a leisurely pace. Lizzie pulled Aeron and Desiree deeper into the container, muttering, _"Invisique,"_ to conceal them.

The footsteps stopped at the door, right at the moment Aeron remembered.

The blood on the door.

The spell popped, the door springing open to reveal a gaunt woman with pale skin and burgundy hair. She was dressed like the lawyer that visited Caroline sometimes, a crisp blue blouse tucked into a high, tight skirt that ended at her knees. She surveyed the unit carefully, her palms facing the room as though prepared to strike with a spell at the slightest sign of trouble.

With Lizzie's spell firmly in place, she saw nothing.

Pulling a phone from her pocket, the woman dialed a number and put it to her ear. Aeron had to strain to hear the man's voice that answered.

" _Who tripped the alarm?"_

"No one that I can see. Everything is untouched, but there's a blood sigil on the door."

" _Get the security tapes before you leave."_

"Of course, Father."

" _And be sure to thank your brother for suggesting that we clear everything out. We owe him for the warning about the snooping."_

Jaw working, the woman said, "I'll visit him before I leave."

" _Put some more spells on his room while you're there."_

"Yes, Father."

The line clicked as the man ended the call. The woman stood frozen, phone still at her ear for a moment. She dropped it, sliding it back into her pocket. With one last look at the unit, she stepped back, slamming the door shut and setting the spell back into place.

The three of them remained frozen in place until her footsteps had left even Aeron's hearing range. It was Desiree that broke the terrified silence with a, "Well, fuck me dead, I think my heart just bruised my ribcage."

Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief and dropped the invisibility spell. She stood and pulled Desiree to her feet, checking her for any spontaneous injuries she may have incurred while crouched in the corner. "I'm pretty sure I could hear your heart too."

"I couldn't hear anything else. What about the tapes she's going to get?"

"I turned the cameras off with a spell when we got here." Lizzie looked over at Aeron, who was straightening himself and brushing cobwebs from the back of his pants. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Can you break the spell from inside?"

"I'm all out of Hope's blood, so … care to winnow us out?"

Aeron sighed. "I'm definitely going to fuck this up, aren't I?"

Desiree snorted. "But things have been going so well so far."

Extending both his hands, Aeron waited for the two girls to take them. Taking a deep breath, he envisaged outside the unit and folded the three of them into the space between spaces, reappearing on the other side.

Dropping Aeron's hand, Desiree grinned and kissed Lizzie full on the mouth. "That was awesome. This is awesome. When's our next adventure?"

Lizzie chuckled. "Hopefully not for a while. Come on, let's get home."

* * *

 _Now_ _…_

The paralytic potion wasn't permanent, thank god.

Unfortunately, Jora was thorough, slipping more of the drug to Hope every few hours to keep her sufficiently frozen for his purposes. She was carted around like luggage on their two-day journey, tucked onto a cart in the middle of a procession of soldiers she couldn't keep track of. The only person she saw more than once was Jora, who rarely missed an opportunity to leer over her.

They arrived at their destination on the night of the third day of travel. Hope heard talk of it among the guards near her stretcher, but none of them spoke the destination's name. The nurse that hovered over Hope was about as helpful.

The sky disappeared, replaced by smooth, carved stone blazing with orange from the torches that lined the walls. It had the appearance of a castle, from Hope's angle, though she couldn't hear very well through the walls. Were they … underground?

Jora led their group through the maze of corridors. Hope couldn't see him, but she smelled him as though he was inches away. The two guards carrying her stretcher said nothing.

"We'll take a trip down here before we put her in her room," said Jora, changing their course. They went down several flights of stairs, their air growing colder with each step downward until finally a creaking door opened and admitted them into a frigid, unlit corridor.

Jora must have lifted one of the torches from the hall outside because light led them along, creeping at the edges of Hope's vision as they delved deeper into the hall. Something cold settled over Hope, something that slid around her heart like a snake, constricting tighter, tighter, tighter.

"Here we are!" Jora announced, as jolly as a Dickensian orphan who'd spotted a sweet shop. There was a sound like nails on a chalkboard as he pulled open a heavy metal door. The guards bore Hope through the doorway and into a small, dark room with a slick, wet stone ceiling.

"Set her down."

They did as instructed, gently resting the stretcher on the floor. Moisture wicked up through the weave of the stretcher and into Hope's skin.

"Sit her up."

The guard near her head crouched down, his beard filling her vision as he slid his hands under her armpits, hauling her up until she was sitting upright and looking around.

She knew this place.

Aeron's cell.

She was Under the Mountain.

* * *

 **As cheesy as it may be say, reviews really do equal love! I always get an extra few hundred words down when I'm riding a positive review-high, so do believe the hype.**

 **I'll see you guys for Vol. 7!**


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